


A Really Private Person

by Deastar



Series: They Say Love Heals All Wounds [15]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Psychics/Psionics, Established Relationship, M/M, emotional homework
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 08:26:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10940712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deastar/pseuds/Deastar
Summary: Sid’s eyes are stinging. He whispers, “I don’t know what I’m doing, Flower.” He’d thought they were doing so well, him and Geno, and they are… when it’s just the two of them. But adding other people to the mix makes it hard, in ways Sid didn’t expect.





	A Really Private Person

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place at the beginning of the next NHL season after the events of They Say Love Heals All Wounds, and it will make no sense if you haven't read that fic first. 
> 
> The title is an homage to one of my favorite Person of Interest fics - I couldn't resist! H/t to DenaCeleste for the "emotional homework" tag - this fic has a lot of it!

The first away game of the season is against the Hurricanes. As Sid heads down the aisle of the plane, bickering with Geno about Call of Duty, he scans the seats for Flower. When Sid spots him, he waves, and makes a beeline for Flower’s row before plopping himself down in his usual seat, right next to Flower.

Immediately, he gets odd looks from both Flower and Geno.

“What?” Sid asks, bewildered. He’s used to getting weird looks sometimes, but this time he hasn’t even done anything weird.

“Uh… you still want to sit with me?” asks Flower.

Sid’s brow furrows. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Still standing in the aisle over Sid, Geno sighs and gives him a fond look. “See you in Raleigh, Sid.” He leans over, close to Sid’s face – as soon as Sid realizes he’s going in for a kiss, he flinches away.

Geno freezes. Before Sid can say anything, he straightens up again, looking hurt, and walks away, mumbling, “See you.”

Sid’s chest hurts. He hates seeing that look on Geno’s face, and it’s even worse knowing he’s the one who put it there. But what was he supposed to do: let Geno kiss him in the middle of the plane? In front of all their teammates?

“I fucked up, didn’t I?” he asks Flower, hating how his voice sounds small. “But I don’t know what I did.”

Flower pats his arm. “That is why you have me.” Flower tilts his head for a second, obviously thinking, then begins, “First thing – I think Geno thought you would sit with him, not me.”

“Why?” Sid asks, confused. Sitting with Flower is one of Sid’s routines. Geno knows better than anyone how Sid is about his routines.

Flower raises an eyebrow. “Because you love him? Because you want to be with him all the time?”

Sid blinks, taken aback. He doesn’t see why those two things have to go together, and he’s pretty sure that for him, at least, they don’t. “I do love him,” he protests, “but I don’t want to be with him _all_ the time. I have other people who are important to me, like you, and Taylor, and Nate, and I want to spend time with you, too. Is that… is that not okay?” he asks Flower, trying not to sound defensive.

“It’s completely okay,” Flower says, soothing.

“So then—”

Flower rolls his eyes. “Just _explain_ that to Geno, is what I’m saying, so he knows it’s not because you’re bored of him or whatever.”

“I couldn’t be bored of him,” Sid says softly. “Not ever.” He can’t even imagine what that would feel like.

“Say that, too,” Flower advises. “You say it in this really sweet way, he’ll like it.”

Sid blushes. “Shut up.” He feels a little dumb, but he’s also relieved – Flower’s advice basically boils down to _Communicate with Geno instead of assuming he knows what you want and why you want it_ , which Sid is used to hearing from his therapist. He and Geno have gotten good at communicating with each other about sex—or at least, Sid thinks so—but he knows he has more to work on when it comes to stuff outside the bedroom.

“Okay, now about the kiss thing,” Flower says – he’s looking at Sid with uncomfortable intensity, and Sid has a sudden foreboding that this part of the conversation isn’t going to be as easy as the last part.

“I don’t understand why he tried to kiss me,” Sid says quickly. _I’m not a dick_ , he wants to say, _I’m just confused._

Flower frowns a little at that. “You guys don’t kiss hello and goodbye?”

“No, we do, sometimes.” Not, like, all the time. But enough that, if Geno had tried to kiss him like that when they'd been alone, it wouldn't have seemed weird.

Flower looks at Sid like _Well, then_.

But it’s not that easy. Sid tries again to frame his confusion, getting more specific this time. “I guess it’s that I don’t—I don’t understand why he would try to kiss me in front of the guys. It’s inappropriate.”

The look Flower gives Sid in response is sharp. “I know you don’t think it’s inappropriate for me or Tanger to kiss our wives in front of the team – Sid, you better not be telling me that two _guys_ kissing is inappropriate—”

Impatiently, Sid gestures at the plane, at the teammates slowly filling up the seats. “Here? Of course it’s inappropriate. It’s going to make people uncomfortable.”

Flower narrows his eyes at Sid. “Sure, it’ll make some of the guys uncomfortable… but Sid— _fuck them_ ,” he says, vehemently.

Sid flinches backward, and replies, just as vehemently, “ _No_. Not ‘fuck them,’ Flower. The guys who are uncomfortable, they’re not strangers – they’re my teammates, and I am their captain, and I am _responsible_ for them, Flower. I am responsible for making them feel like they are part of this team, like they fit in—”

“ _You_ are part of this team,” Flower interrupts, “ _Geno_ is part of this team, _you_ fit in—”

“ _Yes_ ,” Sid says, intensely. “We do. That’s my whole point, Flower.”

Sid drags in a breath and forces himself to relax back into his seat again. Flower’s not the enemy, and this isn’t a fight – or at least, Sid doesn’t want it to be. More quietly, but with no less force, he says, “I am the captain of this team. Geno has an A. Every guy who wears a letter on this team is one of the guys who would be cool with Geno kissing me goodbye. If this team fractures into cliques, Geno and me aren’t going to be the ones on the outside. It’ll be the other guys. And you can say ‘fuck them’ if you want, Flower, because those guys aren’t your responsibility.” Sid doesn’t say it sharply, or meanly – everyone has their role to play, and being their starting goalie is more than enough weight on Flower’s shoulders. “They aren’t your responsibility,” he repeats, “But they’re mine. And I’m not going to do things that are going to drive a wedge between them and the rest of the team.”

Flower draws a quick breath as if he’s going to argue, but then he lets it out silently. He stares at the headrest of the seat in front of him for several minutes, obviously thinking hard, while Sid tries to be patient. When Flower turns back to Sid, he says, “Okay. At first, I thought you were full of shit. And I still think you might be. But I can see what you’re saying. Okay? That’s the first thing.”

Sid feels some of the tension that had built up in his shoulders release. “Thank you,” he says, a little shaky.

“But the second thing,” Flower says, in a steely tone, “is that Geno is my friend, too, and when you flinch away from him trying to kiss you, it makes it look like you’re ashamed of him, and that’s a really shitty thing you’re doing to my friend.”

Flower’s words leave Sid winded, like a hard check. It feels like he can’t draw a full breath – his chest hurts too much. “Flower…” he rasps, but he doesn’t know what to say. He can’t look at Flower.

“Harsh,” Horny mutters from the seat behind him, and oh, that’s just perfect – knowing that the whole team is probably listening in on this fucking conversation like it’s the in-flight entertainment.

Unexpectedly, Flower wraps an arm around Sid and pulls him close. “ _I’m sorry, Sid_ ,” he murmurs in French, “ _but I love you too much to just sit here and watch you fuck yourself over_.”

Sid’s eyes are stinging. “ _I’m sorry, too_ ,” he whispers back. “ _I don’t know what I’m doing, Flower._ ” He’d thought they were doing so well, him and Geno, and they _are_ … when it’s just the two of them. But adding other people to the mix makes it hard, in ways Sid didn’t expect. And he hates the feeling that, after all his progress in being a good partner for Geno, he’s back at square one.

Flower doesn’t try to argue with Sid – doesn’t try to tell him that Sid _does_ know what he’s doing. He just says, quietly, “ _I know. But I will help you. We all will._ ”

Sid nods, too overwhelmed to speak.

“So you think about that, okay?” Flower presses, and Sid nods again. Flower lets Sid go, then tilts his head as if he’s trying to come to some sort of decision. After a minute of that, he says, “One last thing. You had this whole argument about team unity and whatever when I asked you why you didn’t want Geno to kiss you in public. And I can’t read you, so I don’t know, maybe you really were thinking all that complicated stuff about not breaking the team into cliques.” His eyes haven’t left Sid’s face this whole time, and his voice is carefully even. “But that’s a lot of thoughts to cause such a fast reaction. So maybe you want to think about what really made you flinch.”

*

Sid does, the whole way to Raleigh. He tries to use the techniques that he’s learned in therapy – scribbling down the assumptions underlying his thinking on a spare piece of paper, testing them with what-ifs. He tries out different scenarios in his head to help figure out what the specific thing is that made him uncomfortable. Would he still have been uncomfortable if the team was out at a bar, instead? What about if Geno had tried to kiss Sid in front of his parents, instead of the team? What if Geno had just tried to kiss his cheek? It’s hard work, but it’s useful – Sid thinks he understands his reaction better once he’s done.

When they get to the hotel, and Sid gets in to the room he’s sharing with Geno, he finds Geno sitting on the end of one of the beds with his bag at his feet. He looks up at Sid’s arrival, and when the door closes, he asks quietly, “You want different rooms?”

Sid blinks. “What?”

“You want different rooms, I can ask for separate.” He sounds subdued, almost resigned.

Once Sid realizes what Geno is offering, he drops his bag and stumbles over to Geno as fast as he can. “No,” he says urgently, cupping Geno’s face in his hands. “No. Geno, I don’t ever want to go to bed without you. Not ever again. I’m sorry about on the plane, too, I want to talk to you about that…”

Geno lets out a breath, and his mouth turns up at the corners, just a little. “Good,” he says, his voice light with relief. “I don’t want, either, but I remember last year when you tell me you don’t want guys to know we sleep together, and I think is maybe same now.”

“No,” Sid says, joining Geno on the bed. “No, I—this is what we should talk about. When I wouldn’t let you kiss me on the plane, I—okay, first, that was messed up, and I apologize, and I won’t do it again.” Flower was right – it made it look like Sid was ashamed of Geno, and that was absolutely the wrong thing to do.

Geno takes Sid’s hand and smiles softly. “Is okay, Sid, yes? First time for kiss in front of guys, you don’t expect, don’t know what to do, it’s hard.”

“That’s true,” Sid says, “and that’s part of it. Especially since… Geno, I didn’t realize until I was thinking about it later, but that wouldn’t just have been the first time we kissed in front of the team – it would have been the first time we kissed in public _ever_.”

Sid can see the thoughts moving across Geno’s face: _That can’t be right. We kiss all the time. We must have—at least in front of—_

But there’s nobody. Sid ran through the list of likely suspects himself on the plane. Of course they wouldn’t have PDA in front of their parents, or the kids at hockey camp, but not Taylor, or Gonch, or Nate, either.

“We’re private people, G,” Sid says, when he sees that Geno’s come to the same realization that Sid did. “Or, probably… I’m a private person. Is more what that’s about.” He looks down at their clasped hands. Quietly, he says, “I told Flower on the plane that I flinched because I didn’t want to make the guys uncomfortable, and that’s true. But that’s—not all of it. I’m a really private person, G. And I'm especially private about—about liking guys. Because I _had_ to be. I was scared for a long time, G, of doing anything that might... seem gay, I guess. You know how scared I was," he says, softly, thinking about another hushed conversation with Geno, in another hotel room.

"I remember," Geno replies, equally softly, and Sid can see a shadow pass across his face. He squeezes Sid's hand for comfort.

Sid explains, "I know, in my head, that everything you said that night is true - that nobody on this team is going to beat me up for doing something gay in front of them. I mean..." He laughs, although it comes out a little shaky. "The cat's pretty much out of the bag on that one. Whether you kiss me on the plane or not is kind of beside the point. But that fear... it's still with me. And I think it's going to take a while to shake off."

Geno nods slowly – he doesn’t say anything, but the expression on his face is thoughtful. After a minute, he offers, "Is not just about afraid, though, I think - also you just... like you say, private person. Have to put some things in public, because hockey, but family, feelings-things... these you don't want to put for everybody see, you know? I know this about you - is not surprise." He gives Sid a gentle smile, and Sid smiles back - Geno's right, of course, and Sid still gets a warm feeling every time Geno proves how well he knows Sid.

There's one more thing Sid wanted to be sure to say, though, and he makes himself look Geno in the face while he does it. “This isn’t about being ashamed of you," he tells Geno intensely. "Because I’m not – I couldn’t be.” His eyes start stinging as he whispers, “I’m so fucking proud of you, G. I’m so fucking proud you want to be with me.”

Geno immediately gathers Sid up into his arms. “Oh, my Sid,” he murmurs. “Okay, Sid. Okay.”

They hold each other on the bed for a few minutes, not talking – just breathing in sync with each other, sinking into the closeness between them.

Eventually, Geno pulls back and ducks his head to meet Sid’s eyes. “I know you not ashamed,” he says, eyes soft. “I can read you, remember? So don’t worry about that.” He digs his teeth into his lower lip for a second, then continues, “But I want to ask now, what is okay, Sid?”

Sid blinks. “What do you mean?”

Geno explains, “You private person. I know this. I, um… respect this. Is right? Is how you say?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“Good.” Geno nods. “So I want to ask, what is okay to do in public with Sid, you know? Hugging okay? Kissing? Hold hands? Is okay with team? Camera? Family?”

“It’s… you can do anything you want,” Sid says, and he means it, too, difficult as that is. “That’s… like I said, it was messed up of me to flinch away when you tried to kiss me, and I’m not ever going to do that again. Okay?”

Geno blows out a breath and falls backward on the bed, stretching out his arms and looking up at Sid fondly. “Sid, we bondmates.”

“Yes,” Sid says, not sure what that has to do with their conversation.

“So if I make you uncomfortable, always I _know_ ,” Geno points out. “And it sucks, you know? I’m not ever want. So if you say, oh, Geno, do anything, but then I kiss you in locker room and it make you sad, then sucks for both and is no good.”

That’s true—and Sid feels the same way, even though he can’t read Geno. It just feels shitty in general to know that somebody you love is unhappy.

“I… yeah. Fair enough,” he allows, still thinking it through.

Geno reaches out for Sid’s hand and tugs on it lightly, and Sid stretches out alongside him, propped up on an elbow. He starts, “But, like… sometimes being a good partner is making sacrifices, you know? Doing something uncomfortable for the person you love because it’ll make them happy. And I can do that. I _want_ to do that,” Sid stresses. “What you want, to touch me without worrying about whether people are watching… that’s a totally normal, reasonable thing. You’re not, like… imposing on me or something. You should be able to do that.”

Geno squints up at Sid and chews on his lip for a few seconds. “Hmm. Okay. So maybe we… compromise? Some touches okay, with some people, but not all.”

Sid tries saying again, “It’s _all_ okay, G—” but Geno gives him a look like he’s missing the point.

He tells Sid, “All okay, yes, but—I think is good if some touches we think of like… I’m not avoid and you’re try to, uh, get used, but other touches, I’m try not to do. You know? Even if they okay, I’m try not, because _not_ do something for person you love is also be good partner. And I want.”

“Huh.” Sid contemplates that. There’s still a part of him—there will maybe always be a part of him—that instinctively rebels at the idea of Geno sacrificing anything when _Sid_ could sacrifice instead. But he can recognize that now, and see that it’s not healthy for one person to make all the sacrifices. “Okay,” Sid says, leaning in to drop a kiss on Geno’s lips. “Let’s compromise.”

It turns out to be pretty easy, in the end, due in part to the prep work that Sid had done on the plane. Public places or anywhere with cameras are a no-go, and so are team activities where the whole team will be there, for the same reasons that Sid explained to Flower on the plane, and which he explains to Geno now. In front of their circle of trusted friends, on the other hand, Sid okays hugging, hand-holding, closed-mouthed kissing, and light cuddling. Their parents are originally a mutually agreed no-PDA zone, but after a second of consideration, Geno asks hesitantly, “Even Sid-Mama?”

And when Sid gives that question some thought, he decides, “I think… yeah, she’s different. I think…” He pauses, and says very quietly, “I think it might make her happy, actually. To see us holding hands and stuff.” _You found your nice boy after all_ , she’d said to him, a few weeks ago, when he and Geno were up in Cole Harbour, and she’d looked just as proud, just as satisfied, as when he’d brought the Cup home. Maybe more. Sid hadn’t expected that.

Geno smiles at him, soft and pleased. Very quietly, he says, “Maybe someday same for my Mama. Probably not,” he adds quickly, louder, as if he’s embarrassed to have even expressed the hope out loud. It makes Sid’s chest ache.

With slow tenderness, Sid leans in to kiss Geno, and then to kiss him again, until there’s no trace of pain left on Geno’s face. “I bet she will,” Sid murmurs into the warm air between their lips. “Even if it takes a while, I bet she will.”

Geno bites his own lower lip, looking a little shy. Then he shoots a mischievous glance at Sid and says, “She gonna think you best when she hear you speak Russian.”

Sid lets out a sharp bark of a laugh and gracefully lets Geno turn the conversation away from serious topics. “No way am I trying out my brand-new shitty Russian on your mom,” Sid informs Geno. “I only know like ten words so far, and half of them are dirty.”

A slow, crafty smile spreads across Geno’s face. “Only half?” He rubs his thumb over Sid’s lips, and Sid’s breath catches. “Don’t worry,” Geno rumbles, still grinning, “I fix.”

Unfortunately, Sid’s prospective dirty-Russian lesson is interrupted by Tanger banging on the hotel room door and bellowing, “Team dinner, lovebirds!”

“Fucker,” Geno mutters, disentangling himself from Sid. Sid kind of agrees.

At dinner, Sid ends up next to Flower—of course—who nudges Sid with his pointy elbow and asks, under his breath, “All good?”

Sid smiles. “Yeah, Flower, we’re all good.” And then, just barely a whisper, in French, “ _Thanks for loving me too much to let me be an asshole_.”

“ _Always have, always will_ ,” Flower replies, just as soft, with a smile that makes Sid feel warm down to his toes.

“ _And thank you for thinking of Geno, too_ ,” Sid adds, unable to quash a wave of guilt – however grateful he is to Flower for being Geno’s advocate, Sid knows that _he_ should have been the one thinking of Geno first.

But Flower just shrugs. “ _You’d have gotten there eventually. I just speeded you up_ ,” he says. More quietly, he reminds Sid, “ _All relationship stuff gets easier with practice. You’re still new. Give yourself a break, eh?_ ”

“ _Yeah, Sid_ , _give yourself a break_ ,” Tanger chimes in, grinning, from further down the table, while Sid curses himself for forgetting that Flower’s not the only Francophone within hearing range.

“Fuck off,” Sid tells Tanger, hiding his face in his hands.

Tanger just laughs and asks Flower, “ _Why don’t you love_ me _enough to stop_ me _being an asshole?_ ”

“ _There’s not enough love in the world to do that_ ,” Flower says dryly.

“Ouch,” Sid says, laughing. He and Flower and Tanger know each other so well by now, and Sid trusts them more than he can say. He wishes, a little, that he had that level of trust with all the guys on the team—enough trust that he could kiss Geno goodbye on the team plane, or hold hands at team dinner, without worrying about some of the guys taking it badly. But there’s time, Sid thinks. The younger guys coming up are already ten times more comfortable with gay issues and gay people than Sid’s cohort was. And Sid and Geno being together is still so new – in time, maybe, the “first”-ness of it will fade, and they can look forward to being gently mocked for being boring old married people just like Flower and Vero are now.

That’s what Sid hopes for, anyway. And in the meantime, he has this: good friends, laughter, good food, and Geno just down the table, enjoying his own friends and shooting Sid a fond look whenever he hears Sid’s goose-honk laugh.

Sid was so, so afraid, for so many years, of being out. He was so sure that he would lose all this – lose _everything_. But he didn’t. He still has hockey. He still has his team, and his friends, and his family… and he has Geno, which is so far beyond anything that Sid had ever dared to imagine. If he never gets more, he has this. And that’s more than enough.


End file.
